


soft power

by plastiswafers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Everybody Loves Thor, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Reluctantly Parental Tony Stark, Take No Prisoners Aunt May
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastiswafers/pseuds/plastiswafers
Summary: Peter has a favorite Avenger, and it's not Iron Man. Combine that with being firmly in the cross hairs of one very angry Aunt May, and Tony's starting to feel like the universe really is conspiring against him after all.





	soft power

“Sorry about the spoon,” Peter whispered.

Tony couldn’t say he hadn’t been wondering. The handle appeared to have been bitten into jagged pieces all up and down, like someone had tried to fashion a weapon out of it and given up halfway through. It poked and prodded his hands every time he reluctantly dipped into the hominy soup; he supposed that was probably the point.

“I accidentally put it in the blender when I was ten.” Peter looked over his shoulder nervously, like May was going to emerge from the kitchen at any moment and scold him for giving away Parker family secrets. “We don’t usually use it until we’re too lazy to do the dishes, but…”

“But I’m a special occasion,” Tony supplied. “The kind of special occasion that calls for a person’s least favorite spoon.” Amusingly petty; he’d have to file this one away for later.

Peter shrunk in his chair. Tony was so glad to know that he could add this to the long list of things he had yet again fucked up for other people. “I get it,” he said. “I’m still just amazed she’s serving me pozole and not Drano Surprise.”

Peter’s phone call had been about as ominous as any that Tony could think of; Happy had snickered as he patched Tony through. First, dejected: “ _May knows about Spider-Man_.” Then, sullen: “ _She wants you to come to dinner._ ” And finally, nervous: “ _Uh, says you_ have _to come to dinner. This Thursday. Seven p.m. Or she’s kind of maybe saying she’s going to call the police_? _Or file a police report? She keeps picking up the phone and pretending to dial 911, I’m afraid she’s actually going to hit call by accident and then our apartment is going to get raided for wasting the dispatcher’s time and then they’ll find my suit and send_ me _to jail instead._ ”

He could point out how spectacularly unlikely that outcome seemed, but Peter seemed nervous enough about it that there was a goddamn _warble_ in his voice. And if Tony didn’t feel guilty in the sense of, “Wow, I feel so guilty that I left you alone to fight off some psychotic arms dealing bird guy because my head was so far up my ass I assumed I could just forget about you and let the problem resolve on its own,” he maybe, perhaps, sort of experienced some kind of emotion approximating the feeling.

“If you were a severely pissed off aunt of a teenage boy about to ream me out for quote unquote child endangerment, what would you want to hear?” Tony had asked Pepper.

“I’m not actually Tony Stark, and the man you’re looking to murder will be here for your killing pleasure shortly?” Uncharacteristically unhelpful, though Tony couldn’t blame her.

Peter jerked back in his seat as May bustled back in from the kitchen, and Tony jerked back to attention along with him “Sorry about that,” May said, shooting Tony a withering glance like the smoke alarm had gone off entirely because of his presence. “Everything’s under control now. Tortilla, anyone?”

It wasn’t like Tony was a stranger to uncomfortable meals. Being the type of person to court controversy (and grab that controversy, and throw it in the face of anyone who had the audacity to act like Tony’s shit-stirring was anything other than exactly what they felt like dealing with that day) had landed Tony in the hot seat a few hundred thousand times in his life, but this was different. Tony was used to being in control, to being able to tell people to go fuck themselves as soon as he didn’t feel like dealing with things anymore.

He had a feeling Peter wouldn’t appreciate that last tack. Which meant that May was in control—which meant that Tony was nervous.

“So, Tony,” May said, deceptively conversational, “when you whisked my nephew away to Germany without my knowledge or consent, did you have a plan for what you were going to say for me if he got injured or killed? Are there enough casualties on Stark internships that you’d have plausible deniability?”

Straight for the jugular; Tony could practically feel the blood ooze down his throat. Peter, for his part, appeared to be trying to become one with his chair. Tony wished he could join him.

“Uh,” Tony said. “I was pretty much banking on it never coming up. I had—some other things on my mind.” Okay, no, May’s eyes were narrowing and Peter was giving him a look like he’d just dived on top of a live grenade. New tactic. “Peter’s such a smart kid and all, really, he was more of a spectator than anything, he barely had to do anything and I sent him home really quickly?”

“Really?” May said.

“Absolutely,” Tony said, relaxing into a smile. “It was barely anything. I was easing him into it, you know? I saw all those Youtube videos and I figured he could use some guidance…a guardian angel, if you will…”

“So the part where he fought Captain America in hand-to-hand combat? You call that easing him into it, or did I just happen to hallucinate that part of the story?”

“ _May_ ,” Peter groaned.

“Way to sell me out, kid.”

“You don’t know how she is!” Tony was starting to get a pretty good idea. “She can get anything out of anyone—I bet she could get the access codes to the Iron Man suit or like, your bank account, I mean it, Mr. Stark, she’s like a parental guardian Houdini, and I’m not that great of a liar, apparently--”

“Are you going to answer my question, _Mr. Stark_?”

All of his usual deflection tactics were failing him. Tony wondered if May Parker might have a very lucrative career awaiting her in the CIA. “Listen,” Tony said, trying on his best “you and I are both extremely reasonable and responsible adults” voice. “There were—extenuating circumstances. I needed all hands on deck, I swear to God. And it wasn’t like he wasn’t out there getting banged up every night, anyway. I gave him a suit!” He’d forgotten about that as a potential point on his side. “It’s a good suit—one of the best. It’s got all the nifty gadgets to keep him from becoming spider chum.”

“Didn’t you take it away from him for awhile?” May said, eyes flickering to Peter as if for confirmation on her timeline.

“Yeah,” Tony said slowly. “And then he went out and jumped on the back of a moving plane anyway, which, like, score one for heroism, Pete, but not exactly something within my control.”

As if on cue, May seemed to crumple in on herself, fingers held to her temples like she was trying to keep her head from exploding or something worse. Peter’s hand snaked out immediately to rest comfortingly on her shoulder, and Tony immediately felt bad—like he was intruding on some private moment, which he almost certainly was. _This is why recruiting children for your super secret boy band is a piece of shit idea, you piece of shit_ , his brain unhelpfully reminded him.

“God,” May moaned. “I should’ve known something was up, the way he kept talking about you all of a sudden. Mr. Stark this, Mr. Stark that, blah blah blah…It’s not like you were ever his favorite Avenger or anything.”

“ _May!_ ”

This was bait, plain and simple, dangling deliciously in Tony’s field of view—bait that Tony was going to take. Let Peter take some of the heat that night; Tony liked to think that he was the one May was actually angry at, and Tony was a convenient afterthought who would exit her mind in a matter of days. It had absolutely nothing to do with Tony’s sudden, burning desire to know a fifteen-year-old boy’s Avenger power rankings. Nothing at all.

“What do you mean I’m not your favorite Avenger?” Tony said with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t have a favorite,” Peter said quickly.

May snorted. “You are such a little liar lately.”

“I love everyone equally,” Peter insisted, blush starting to creep up his neck and toward his ears. “Full communism. Everyone’s the same in my worldview, really.”

“Okay, you can stop with your little millennial jokes—”

“I’m Gen Z, actually—”

“Enough.” Tony smiled in what he liked to think was a very sweet and charming way. “Don’t be shy, Peter. You can tell me who your favorite is. I can handle it.”

Peter shook his head, tight lipped and regressing back to pale.

May took one look at him and smirked. “It was always Thor, wasn’t it, honey?”

“ _Thor_?” Tony couldn’t help himself. This felt like a titanic upheaval of what Tony had come to know and expect. “C’mon, couldn’t it at least have been Banner or something?”

“Thor is a super cool blond alien god who appeared from space and flies around and hits things with a hammer,” Peter said furiously. His words had the practiced ease of someone who had had this argument many, many times before. “And he’s all like, noble and truth and justice-y but he’s also here to have a good time so he doesn’t get too uptight about stuff. He just wants to have a beer and smash bad guys. Thor is cool, okay? Thor is a cool guy. That’s why he always used to be my favorite. Are you happy now?” Peter’s eyes darted back and forth between Tony and May accusingly.

Tony would have liked to stay annoyed, but Peter’s explanation was almost…adorable in its earnestness. And if that thought wasn’t enough to send hives blooming all up and down Tony’s torso, he couldn’t quite resist pushing at one niggling detail. “Used to be your favorite?”

Peter’s eyes rolled so hard that Tony felt a brief, chilling understanding of what it might be like to deal with a teenager on a day to day basis. “ _Obviously_ you’re my favorite now! I mean, you literally made me a superhero instead of just some dork running around Queens in sweatpants.”

Peter was so brightly pink now that Tony half-wanted to tell him he didn’t have to keep going, but the infamous Tony Stark ego reared its head and demanded that Tony hear the kid out. “The only reason you weren’t my favorite before is because everyone always _assumed_ you were my favorite and it was super annoying,” Peter continued. “Like, just because I was this nerdy science kid it meant I had to be like, totally obsessed with Iron Man or whatever. I have like five gifted copies of _Tony Stark’s Python For Kids_ lying around, it got pretty annoying and I guess I’m a hipster or a contrarian or whatever! But you’re my favorite, okay? Do you need it in writing or something?”

“Preferably,” Tony said, “Though I think this cherished memory will do for the time being.” And, okay, yikes, that was closer to feelings territory than Tony was ever intending on getting, but luckily Peter’s ever-shifting attention had already swiveled its way back to May. The intoxicating power of a tirade appeared to keep him going, and Tony was more than content to sit back and watch.

“And May,” Peter said with an exhale. “Obviously it’s not Mr. Stark’s fault that I’m pretty dumb sometimes because, you know, hello, teenager, and he really has been trying to stop me from being so dumb most of the time, it’s just that I can be kind of bad at following directions…which you totally know! But I’m way more responsible now, promise. You don’t have to lock me up and throw away the key or anything, and you super don’t have to yell at Mr. Stark because he didn’t really do anything.” That was probably giving Tony a little bit too much credit, but far be it for Tony to stop him. “So you could yell at me instead, or maybe we could just forget about all of that and get rid of this pozole and order pizza instead?”

He sounded so hopeful, so painfully fifteen that Tony had to stop himself from closing his eyes to block out the sensation. He focused on May instead, who looked as cowed as Tony had ever seen her, silent as she apparently thought up her next move. “Maybe,” she said finally, “pozole was a little ambitious for a dinner party. Pizza, you said?”

And that was the kumbaya cue for Tony to take his leave. He stood up and clapped an amiable hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I think I’ll leave you two to that,” Tony said. “There are a few more things I need to get done this evening if I want Stark Industries to still be standing in the morning.” More like if he wanted to avoid that particular disapproving Pepper glare, not that they needed to know that.

“Peter, do what your aunt says. Don’t stay out too late. Eat your vegetables. Or else I’ll send Happy out here to yell at you again. Or, uh, yell at you myself. Obviously. Try to avoid anything involving yelling, okay?”

He turned to May. He was going out on a limb, one of Tony’s least favorite extremities to go out on, but the entire evening had more or less painted him into a corner. He extended a hand for her to shake. “Mrs. Parker,” he said warmly. “A pleasure to see you again.”

She gave him a look, the kind that made Tony feel like his skeleton had been pulled out from his body and laid bare for her to pick over, before standing up and grasping his hand with hers. “Please,” she said. “Call me May.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peter picked up on the seventh ring; Tony immediately pushed down any thoughts of _dead in a ditch_ and _likes even Hawkeye more than he likes you_.

“Hello?” Peter said breathlessly.

“Where are you?”

“Um, headed to debate practice. I kind of have extra this week because TOC quals are coming up and MJ says my 1AR needs work and I’m kind of stressing about it—“

“Scratch that. I have a present for you.”

“A present?”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“I mean, what kind of present?”

“Have I ever given you a bad present?”

“No,” Peter said thoughtfully. “But I maybe wouldn’t be entirely surprised if one day you did? Not intentionally, obviously—“

“You’re being very hurtful. I’m almost feeling like I might want to take this present back to the manufacturer.”

“No! I want the present. Please. Where are you?”

“Sending you my location now. Be there in five or no present for you.”

Peter was there in three; Tony hadn’t been waiting very far from the school. Peter rounded the corner with a furrowed brow, looking up when he saw Tony and immediately stopping dead in his tracks. “Um,” he choked.

“Spider-Man,” Thor boomed.

“Um!” Peter barely had time to make a sound before Thor grabbed his hand in what looked like a very strong, very painful handshake.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Thor said solemnly. “I’ve heard much of your exploits—very impressive for a warrior your age. Stark must think highly of you indeed to volunteer you to assist me in such an important matter.” That last part most definitely hadn’t been in the script that Tony had provided for him; this was why Tony refused to take Thor seriously as anybody’s actual favorite.

Peter, for his part, seemed to be so overwhelmed that he was only processing every other word that came out of Thor’s mouth. “Assist?” Peter said, voice cracking.

Thor nodded, golden hair glinting in the sunshine. Mjolnir rested causally in his hand, like that was a totally normal thing for an adult man to be carrying around on a spring afternoon in Manhattan. Tony could _maybe_ see why a preteen boy might think that Thor was the coolest, not that he would ever vocalize those thoughts to anyone, especially Thor.

“A clan of Asgardian creatures appears to have found its way into Midgard. I’m told they’re quite similar to your, what do you call them, alligators? Except for the poison and telekinesis, of course. I’ve received word that they’ve been unleashed in tunnels beneath your city where you store your waste. It’s most imperative we stop them before they spread, or it could have the gravest of consequences. I ask for your help, Spider-Man.”

“Alien alligators in the sewers,” Peter breathed. “That is… _awesome_.”

“So you will help?”

“Yes, yes, definitely! Just let me, uh, stow my backpack and get my suit on. I can’t get any sewage on these sneakers, they’re new and I think Aunt May might rip me limb to limb if they get stained now…”

“Let us seek an entrance point to these ‘sewers’ while you get prepared, then.”

Thor started walking, decisive as ever, and Peter trailed after him immediately like he feared being left behind. “I kind of always had this idea,” Peter said tentatively. “Like maybe when you swing your hammer, if I time my jump at the exact right time, I could use it as a launching point? I could get some serious air that way, you know, and I bet it could give me some extra impact when I come down for a punch…”

Tony tuned them out. He could tick this off for his good deed of the day—getting rid of evil alligators was an important public service for the city of New York, after all. He pulled out his cell phone to summon Happy and get the hell out of there when he noticed that Peter had stopped to look rather sheepishly over his shoulder.

“Forget something?” Tony called.

Peter ducked his head. “Um, no,” he said. “Except…are you coming, or what?”

Tony didn’t bother to stop the grin that broke out across his face. So much for favorites, or maybe the kid really hadn’t been lying at dinner the other night. “Be right behind you.”


End file.
